


A Brilliant Beyond Brilliant Idea

by skatzaa



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Small Town, Bisexual Natasha Romanov, F/F, Implied attempted assault, Kid Fic, Latina Maria Hill, Lesbian Maria Hill, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Past Bucky Barnes/Natasha Romanov, Rivalry, Secret Identity, Single Parents, vigilantes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-27 02:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17757965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skatzaa/pseuds/skatzaa
Summary: “Is thisfraudbothering you, Mr. Bradley?” someone asks from behind Nat. It takes quite a bit of effort for Nat to keep from squeezing Eli’s shoulder unnecessarily hard.Nat turns around to face the other woman. Everything about her is plain, from her nondescript cargo pants to her simple navy mask to her goddamn hair, plain and dark and pulled back in a tight bun. She wants to be underestimated, but Nat’s never fooled.“Eli,” she throws back over her shoulder, “why don’t you just go home.”“Yes ma’am,” he says dutifully, and then all but runs away.





	A Brilliant Beyond Brilliant Idea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_fanthom_reader227](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_fanthom_reader227/gifts).



> Hi! This was written for the womenofmcu's Valentine's Exchange for thefanthomreader. I sort of went back and forth for a long while on which fic to write, but this idea was just so much fun that n the end I couldn't resist it. I do hope you enjoy! <3
> 
> Rated for a bit of language. A big thanks to Syd, as always, for betaing. You will probably enjoy this fic a lot more if you assume very little logic was involved in the creation of the AU, lol. It's fun, but I can't say it makes a lot of sense :p

Nat finishes tucking her hair into the cowl and then feels around the edges to make sure all of her hair line is covered. Nothing gives away a secret identity like accidentally flashing half the town with a hair color so distinctive they’ll immediately know it’s her.

She pats her butt pocket to check for her phone and, satisfied it’s there, pulls on her gloves. This might be the last week she can wear the winter suit; she’s already sweating through the back of her tank top, and all the leather won’t be doing her any favors, that’s for sure. At least she only has one free hour today—the email from the school said there’s going to be an unscheduled early release, so she has that excuse for not patrolling all afternoon in this get up.

Nat taps one finger against her mask like she always does, and then saunters out of the alley and hangs a right to head downtown.

Before she takes two steps she sees Eli Bradley, loitering by the hardware store when he should definitely be in school at this time of day. At her approach, he glances up from his phone and goes ashen. The eight spider eyes on her mask tend to have that effect.

“Eli Bradley,” she says, voice flat. The last thing she needs is for Eli to recognize his dad’s favorite euchre partner by voice. “Why aren’t you in class?”

“Uh,” Eli says, very eloquently. He fumbles with his phone and almost drops it, but Nat snags it before it hits the ground. She holds it up and tilts her head to one side. “Bla– Ms. Black Widow– um, Ma’am?”

Nat presses her lips together to keep from smiling. She holds out the phone and says, “Here.”

“Thank you,” Eli says. He takes it and shoves it in his backpack, right on top of a packet from his science class that definitely doesn’t look finished. “I have study hall right now and forgot lunch money, so I was just running home.”

Fair enough. She knows him well enough to know he isn’t lying, so Nat pats him gently on the shoulder. “The schools are getting out early today, but I can give you money if you need some food.”

“Oh, that’s alright, ma’am,” he says. It’s funny how the teens never question her seemingly random knowledge of the school schedules. Maybe they think adults just sort of know that type of thing. “I’ll just head—”

“Is this  _ fraud _ bothering you, Mr. Bradley?” someone asks from behind Nat. It takes quite a bit of effort for Nat to keep from squeezing Eli’s shoulder unnecessarily hard. 

Nat turns around to face the other woman. Everything about her is plain, from her nondescript cargo pants to her simple navy mask to her goddamn hair, plain and dark and pulled back in a tight bun. She wants to be underestimated, but Nat’s never fooled. 

“Eli,” she throws back over her shoulder, “why don’t you just go home.”

“Yes ma’am,” he says dutifully, and then all but runs away.

The citizens of Flannelton are well versed in the rivalry between their two most active vigilantes.

“Black Widow,” the woman says, with a level of disgust that most people reserve for an actual spider they’re about to crush beneath their shoe.

“Commander,” Nat replies coolly. She doesn’t know why the Commander doesn’t like her, but that’s fine in her book, because the  _ one _ time Nat tried to skip a line—she was late to pick up Lena, and it’s not like Peter didn’t  _ already  _ have her order waiting—the fucking  _ Commander _ stood in her way to keep Nat from moving until she was the only customer in the building. And it wasn’t like she could take the woman down, because then she’d have to explain why she was so skilled in hand-to-hand. She can’t exactly advertise the fact that she used to be a spy. Lena ended up being twenty minutes late to a playdate.

The woman is a menace to the whole town, clearly.

Before either can say anything else, the Commander’s watch beeps twice. She turns and strides away without another word.

Nat’s not too proud to admit she watches her go; the woman has an amazing ass, even in those terrible pants.

She checks her phone. If she’s quick, there’s probably time to catch a tourist or two littering downtown. 

* * *

Lena’s teacher is waiting by the school entrance with another parents when Nat crosses the stress from the parking lot. She recognizes Maria Hill easily and suppresses the urge to straighten her cuffs.

If she’d known Lena and Felix were fighting again, she would’ve at least worn heels with this skirt; they do wonderful things for her legs, and she can use all the help she can get with Maria, since her daughter seems hell bent on creating a mortal enemy of Maria’s son.

“Ms. Maximoff,” Nat says, reaching out to shake the teacher’s hand. Wanda Maximoff is a saint, like most third grade teachers, and Nat appreciates her immensely.

They smile at one another, and then Nat shifts her attention to Maria. She looks up through her lashes and tucks her hair back behind one ear. Not exactly subtle, but she left subtlety behind the moment Lena became a toddler. She says, “Maria, so good to see you. We need to quit meeting like this, though.”

Maria gives her a wry, commiserating smile. Nat isn’t sure why she’s sympathetic at all, since, more often than not, Lena is the one starting the fights. Maria says, “Hi, Natasha.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Romanoff,” Wanda says. She really does look apologetic, the poor thing. First year teachers are so overworked. “Lena and Felix are waiting in the office for you both.”

“In we go, then,” Maria says, quietly enough that Nat can hear but Wanda doesn’t. She looks great, even wearing what are obviously home-repair clothes and with her hair in a loose bun that’s falling apart as Nat watches. Nat wants to compliment her, but that would probably be weird.

Nat nods, probably a moment too late to be anything but awkward, but no one comments. Maria moves to open the door as Wanda begins to explain the latest argument between the kids.

One of these days, she’ll actually manage to flirt.

Maybe.

* * *

“Do you want to know why I’m called the Black Widow, gentlemen?” Nat asks. She’s squared off against three man in the back of a dimly lit alley, standing between them and the young woman she knows they don’t have any business being near, at this time of night.

“I don’t care,” says the big one in the middle. Why is it, in these situations, the leader always seems to be the biggest one?

Then the one on the right says, “Fuck off, you stupid bitch.”

Nat smiles, all teeth. She reaches up and flips the tiny switch on the side of her mask, lighting the spider eyes up blood red.

“It’s because,” a voice says, from behind the men. They swing around ninety degrees, to keep both vigilantes in view, but there’s no one there. “They say she ate her husband alive.”

The Commander drops down at Nat’s side. 

“Widow,” she says, with a nod that’s practically polite. 

“Commander,” Nat replies. She’s only patrolling tonight because Lena is having a sleepover with friends, and she’s glad that she was able to protect this woman, but it’s reassuring to know the Commander would have been here even if Nat wasn’t. “If you get her out of here safely, I can take care of these goons.”

The Commander gives Nat a once over that can’t be very effective in the dark. But the message is clear: she doesn’t think Nat can handle three men at once.

Nat gives her the same sharp smile, and this time it gets her point across. The Commander nods again and disappears out of Nat’s line of sight.

She turns back to the men, who are nearly frothing at the mouth with the insinuation that a woman who barely comes up to their armpits is any sort of threat.

They learn better, just like everyone else.

* * *

Of course, Nat didn’t  _ actually _ eat her husband.

She and James had been happy together, if only married for the convenience of joint-filing their taxes. When Nat got pregnant with Lena, she got out of the spy business for good, and James didn’t. It still worked between them after that, for the most part, even if Nat had to call up friends to get her late night cravings whenever James was on a mission.

And then he had to fake his death for the sake of a long mission, and by the time he came back Nat was perfectly happy as a single mother and he was in love with his new partner. They talked about a poly relationship, but it just didn’t fit where they were at that point in their lives.

A divorce isn’t really necessary, when one of you is legally dead.

And so now, Nat is a part-time vigilante in a Midwestern town with a population of a whopping 23,752, while James lives with his husband about four hours away and goes by the name  _ Bucky. _

Nobody knows this about Natasha Romanoff, single mother of a slightly rambunctious child. She can’t go around spreading the information about her past life, because it would just cause trouble for everyone involved. So instead, she derives a lot of gleeful satisfaction from finding anyone who stays in Flannelton for more than fifteen minutes (the exact amount of time it takes to travel from one edge of city limits to the other, if one hits both of the stop lights on Main Street) and regaling them with the story of her dear, dead husband.

She never,  _ ever _ leaves out the fact that she was the cause of his demise. It annoys Bucky to no end every time he hears a new rumor, even across state lines. Which is, of course, why she does it.

* * *

Clint calls her just as she’s finishing up the last batch of peanut butter cookies for book club.

(Look, Nat spent the entirety of her formative adult years getting shot at and shooting people in return. The idea of a book club full of other parents who are also bored to tears is absurd to her, and she  _ absolutely loves it _ .)

Nat answers the call and puts it on speaker so she can start on the dishes.

“What’d she do now?” she asks.

Clint sighs loud static into the mouthpiece. He’s still at work then, probably hunched over in his office and nursing a cold cup of coffee that’s doing nothing for his headache. Being an elementary school gym teacher is not for the faint of heart.

He says, “Lena hit Felix in the face during softball today.”

Nat lets her head hang down for a heartbeat. Then she grabs the sponge and runs it under the faucet.

“To be fair,” Clint continues, “I’m pretty sure it was an accident. Even her aim isn’t that great yet, when she’s batting. But—”

“But with their history, you have to call me,” she finishes. Clint makes a sound of agreement. “Is Felix okay?”

“Yeah,” Clint says. He pauses to slurp at his coffee, and then explains the damage as Nat tackles the mixing bowl. No broken bones, thank fuck, but plenty of blood that freaked all the kids out. Felix will probably have a substantial black eye for a while, but nothing worse.

“Okay, thanks Clint,” Nat says. She appreciates the call, she really does. But god, if she isn’t tired of this. 

Clint got her into the spy business in the first place, and he get her out of it. He’s the reason she lives here, that she felt comfortable living on her own with Lena when her daughter was first born. He and Laura have been her cornerstone for close to a decade, and they’re Lena’s godparents, just like Nat is the godmother of their three children. He’s even the reason she picked up vigilantism (along with the book club), when she started to get bored after Lena started school. Having him at the school is a god send, especially at times like this.

But all of that really just means they know each other far, far too well.

“Sorry, Tasha,” Clint says. “Do you want Laura to talk to her?”

“No.” Nat sets the bowl aside to dry and grabs one of the cookie sheets. “I’ll handle it.”

But first, she was going to scrub away some of her frustration.

*

Lena is waiting for her in Principal Fury’s office when Nat arrives at the school. 

Nicholas Fury is not a kind man. He would probably feel more at home as the Director of the C.I.A. than as an elementary school principal, and Nat can’t figure out how he ended up here. But despite that, the kids respect him without being terrified. The fact that he respects them first likely helps. Plus, the eye patch is always a hit with the younger ones. 

Her daughter looks up from her math workbook when Nat opens the door. When she sees Nat’s expression, which isn’t much of an expression at all, she drops her head again, allowing the dark hair she inherited from her father to cover most of her face. 

“Ms. Romanoff,” Principal Fury says, standing and leaning over the desk to offer his hand. Nat shakes it and sits, carefully crossing her legs as she settles in. 

The meeting that follows isn’t unpleasant, all things considered. It’s only a formality, a follow up in light of Lena and Felix’s extended conflict this year. Principal Fury acknowledges that they believe Lena when she says it was an accident, which Nat appreciates. 

After, Nat ushers Lena out the door ahead of her, with one final thanks thrown over her shoulder to Principal Fury. Lena is quiet for the entire walk from the main office to the car, where she pulls herself into her booster seat without any help and waits for Nat to buckle her in. 

It strikes Nat, then, that her daughter will be big enough that she won’t need the booster soon. Her heart feels heavy at the thought and so she crouches down at looks up at Lena.

“Lenochka, can you look at me?” she asks.

Lena raises her gaze from her lap, eyes shining with unshed tears. Voice trembling, she says, “I’m so sorry, Mama. I promise I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“Oh, sweetpea.” Nat rises and gathers Lena in her arms. She pulls her daughter out of the car, cradled against her chest, and rocks back and forth as Lena sniffles into her shoulder. Lena’s sneakers knock against Nat’s knees, another bittersweet reminder that her baby is growing up faster than she can believe. When most of it is out of Lena’s system, Nat hoists her higher up on her hip and asks, “Do you still want to go to Uncle Clint’s house tonight?”

Lena rubs her eyes. “Is he still mad at me?”

“I promise he wasn’t mad, Lenochka,” Nat says. She shifts her arm more securely under Lena’s butt to free up her other hand, which she uses to rub Lena’s back. “He had to react quickly, because Felix was hurt, and that might have sounded like he was angry. But he just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“Okay, I understand.” Lena thinks it over for a minute. Nat’s just glad she still stays relatively active, what with all the vigilante stuff. Her daughter is getting  _ big _ . “I think I’d still like to go. Nate said he’d let me play his game with him last time.”

Nat smiles and ducks down to get Lena back into the car, double checking that the seat belt is actually secure. Before she closes the door, she asks, “Can I have a kiss?”

Lena tilts her face, pushing her cheek in Nat’s direction. Nat swoops in and presses a kiss there, and then blows a raspberry.

“Mama!” Lena shrieks, laughing. Her tears are already forgotten. “Mama stop!”

Nat presses one more kiss to the tip of Lena’s nose before pulling back.

“I love you, sweetpea.”

“Love you too.” Lena’s focus is already shifting to the book she keeps in the back pocket of the passenger seat. 

Nat closes the door. She takes a deep breath, to steady herself, then circles around to the driver’s side door. That’s one crisis averted, then.

* * *

Maria is the first one to show up for book club, a bottle of wine tucked under her arm.

Nat stands there like an idiot, a dripping dishtowel still draped over one shoulder, for a few seconds too long. Jesus, she didn’t think this through. Why did it have to be her turn to host book club immediately after her daughter almost maimed the kid of a mom she’s been halfway infatuated with for a few years now?

Then her brain engages again, and Nat moves out of the doorway to let Maria in.

“Hey, Maria,” she says, feeling a bit like her thoughts are moving through molasses. “I’m sorry, please come in. And– God, I’m sorry, is Felix okay?”

Maria steps into the house and toes off her shoes, adding them to the every growing pile on the mud room floor. Her hair is loose around her shoulders; it doesn’t negate the sharpness of her jawline, but it somehow makes her seem softer nonetheless. She gives Nat a tired smile and sort of gestures with the wine bottle. Nat takes it from her.

“Felix is fine,” Maria tells her. “It’s good to see you.”

Nat moves forward to hug her, though they’re probably not at that point yet, but Maria just really seems like she could use one. Being a single mom is  _ hard _ , and no one understands that better than Nat. 

She has to rise up onto her tiptoes to hook her shoulder over Maria’s shoulder, and she relishes the feeling of Maria’s warm, large hand pressing into her back, covering a good portion of it. It’s sort of awkward, because Nat is still holding the wine bottle in one hand slightly away from them so there aren’t any accidents. But it’s nice. 

Maria breathes out a sigh so tiny Nat could’ve missed it, if it hadn’t ghosted over the shell of her ear. She suppresses a shiver.

They pull back and Maria follows Nat into the hallway that leads to the kitchen and, beyond it, the living room. Nat can still sort of feel the lingering warmth of Maria’s body up against hers.

Nat looks back over her shoulder briefly. “Clint said he didn’t break any bones?”

“No.” Maria sounds understandably relieved. She situates herself on a stool at the kitchen island, watching as Nat grabs several wine glasses from the top cupboard. Nat has to stretch up onto the very tips of her toes to reach the ones in the back, since she doesn’t want to be climbing onto the counters in front of company. “Uh– the nurse said he’s going to have bruising for a while.”

Nat opens the drawer that holds the wine opener and passes it over to Maria, who gets the cork out easily. Nat lets her pour her own glass first and then pours roughly the same amount into her own. They’ll need more wine once the other parents get here, but at least one other person will bring a bottle or two. 

“I’m glad,” Nat says. Maria hmms a little, like she isn’t fully paying attention, and when Nat makes eye contact Maria looks dazed and a bit lost. Nat takes a sip of her wine—a nice white, not too sweet—for lack of anything better to do. Maybe she should talk about it more—clearly there’s something going on with their kids. It might be a good idea to provide a united front? But then, kids are really good at picking up on hidden—and sometimes imaginary—signals. Lena and Felix could get the wrong idea about their mothers. “You know—”

The doorbell rings. Nat casts a direction in its direction, both thankful and resentful of its interruption. It’s not like she had any idea what she was going to say, anyway.

“I’d better go get that,” she says, abandoning her wine glass on the counter. Maria inclines her head in agreement and takes a sip of her own wine. 

She flees toward the mud room. She’d call it a tactical retreat, but that would be a lie. She’s just a coward.

* * *

Nat watches the Commander from her perch above the community movie theater’s sign, which proclaims that Hitchcock’s  _ Rear Windows _ will be playing tomorrow night. It’s been a quiet week, both with Lena and out in the city, and she’s  _ bored. _

It’s probably not a good idea to pick a fight with the Commander out of sheer boredom, but Nat’s feeling too petty to care. 

She levers herself over the edge of the sign and drops silently down to the concrete below. The way the Commander startles and then tries, a little desperately, to pretend like she wasn’t spooked will entertain Nat for  _ days. _

“Black Widow,” the Commander says, sounding stiff. Her shoulders are practically up by her ears. “What do you want?”

Nat sizes her up for a moment, and then she deflates as all of the prickliness disappears. She’s not going to pick a fight with a woman who’s obviously stressed and probably exhausted on top of that.

“I’ll keep an eye on things,” Nat finds herself offering, without quite knowing why. She thinks it has something to do with how frizzy the Commander’s hair is, when it’s normally smooth as silk. The sight disturbs her more than she would like to admit. “You can head home.”

The Commander throws a disbelieving look her way, but whatever she must see in Nat’s body language convinces her to nod once before turning to head north on Main Street. Nat doesn’t watch her go. Instead, she bends down and plucks a cigarette butt off the sidewalk. It’s obviously not the Commander’s, but Nat forces herself to frown at it until she’s certain the Commander is gone.

She feels… uneven, and off balance. She doesn’t like it.

* * *

“This is Pietro Maximoff with Flannelton Elementary, and I’m calling for Natasha Romanoff. We require your presence at the school at your earliest convenience for an issue regarding your daughter, Yelena Romanoff. Please feel free to call us back if you have any questions. Have a great day.”

Nat doesn’t listen to the message for a third time. She pulls her phone away from her face, hangs up the call, and then leans toward to rest her face against the glass and her fist. This isn’t going to be good. This is probably grounds for suspension, whatever it is Lena did. 

She sighs. Sometimes, she’s pretty sure it was easier to be a spy than it is to be a mother.

Scratch that. She’s definitely sure.

She pushes herself up from her desk, abandoning the project for Bucky she’s been half-heartedly working on this week. 

It’s not a long drive to the school, which Nat has always been thankful for. Now, she just wishes she had a little more time to dig through her exhaustion to figure out what she’s really feeling. The last thing she needs is to get to the school only to realize that she’s fucking  _ furious _ , and to accidentally take that out on Lena.

Nat parks the car in the school parking lot and turns it off. She holds the steering wheel in both hands and stares at the Toyota logo. Fifteen years ago, she wouldn’t have ever imagined she would be driving a car she chose based on its  _ safety rating.  _ She drops her head to the top of the steering wheel and closes her eyes. She breathes through her nose and tries to think of what Lena could have done, but comes up with nothing. 

Pietro Maximoff—Wanda’s brother, maybe?—is waiting for her in the main office, arms crossed over his chest as he leans back against the front desk. Nat is halfway convinced the school doesn’t actually employ an administrative assistant; she’s never seen anyone seated there. Pietro looks up as she steps through the open doorway.

“Ms. Romanoff?” he asks. She’s getting really tired of hearing her name in that tone, but she nods anyway. “My name is Pietro, I’m the school’s guidance counselor. If you could just follow me to my office? I think it’s best if we talk first before bringing Lena in.”

Nat nods again, because there’s not much else to say. Pietro’s office is small but cozy, with a low table set off to one side that’s probably used for meetings with kids. It’s almost exactly what she would expect of an elementary school guidance counselor. He sits behind his desk and motions for Nat to take a seat in the one adult-sized chair across from him. The rest are all made for people much shorter than Nat.

“Lena punched Felix Hill in the face during recess today,” Pietro says, with precisely no lead up. Apparently the man doesn’t believe in small talk. “Obviously, the teachers separated them immediately. Lena’s been so upset since that she wasn’t able to return to class, so she’s resting in the nurse’s office. Felix is okay.”

Nat folds her hands in her lap and turns those words over in her mind. She’d really, really hoped, when Lena was a baby, that she would inherit her father’s tendency for breaking up fights, rather than her mother’s knack for starting them. For the first few years of Lena’s life, she’d thought she’d gotten her wish, too.

So much for that.

Pietro continues, “Principal Fury and I agree that she shouldn’t be suspended. Lena is a bright child, and she’s always done well with her classmates. Before this past month, she’s never been in any sort of trouble at school. I think—and Principal Fury agrees—that she should instead attend a few sessions with me so we can better understand what’s going on.”

Nat nods and chews on the inside of her cheek. 

“I know a lot of time,” she says, thinking through the next steps, “problems at school are usually because of some change at home.”

“Exactly,” Pietro says, looking the tiniest bit relieved that she isn’t yelling at him or arguing. Nat wonders, idly, how often that happens to him when he meets with parents. Probably a lot. “Can you think of anything that’s changed in the past two or so months?”

Nat purses her lips. There’s been nothing, really. She hasn’t been out as the Black Widow more often than usual, Lena still has her weekly phone calls with her dads whenever possible, she hasn’t had any fights with Clint’s kids, that she knows of.

She shakes her head, frustrated. “No, nothing’s coming to mind. She and Felix have never been really close, either, but they didn’t hate each other, either.”

Pietro sighs. “Then two sessions a week for the time being would be best, in my opinion. If we can’t resolve the issue between the two, we’ll need to talk about future measures—making sure they aren’t in the same class next year is a pretty easy one. But if Lena continues to be the aggressor, we might end up having to suspend her.”

“I understand,” Nat says, and really, she does. But no parent likes to hear that their child might be suspended, especially not when there’s something they can do about it. She’s let this go for too long, thinking it’ll resolve itself or Lena will get over whatever new playground grudge she has (another trait she inherited from Nat, unfortunately). 

She stands, reaching over to shake Pietro’s hand, and says, “Thank you. I think the counseling sessions are a great idea. Can I pick up my daughter now?”

“Absolutely,” Pietro tells her, and leads her out of his office towards the nurse.

*

They get all the way home before Lena says anything. Nat is content to wait her out; it’s a tactic that always works when her daughter is upset. The tears have dried at this point, but Lena’s little shoulders are still hunched forward when she walks from the car to the front door. Nat follows behind her, taking her time to lock the door and kick her shoes off and arrange them neatly on the mat. 

A sequence of sounds make it relatively easy to track Lena’s progress through the house. Quiet thuds on the living room carpet, louder footsteps on the stairs. Silence for a few moments, probably as Lena waits to see if Nat is following her, and then the wood floors of the upstairs hallway creaks. Finally, the door to Lena’s bedroom closes, hard enough to hear but still soft enough it can’t be considered slamming. 

Nat goes to the kitchen and opens the fridge, planning on preparing a snack in order to give Lena time to calm down. But once the door is open she just stares at the fridge’s contents, unable to decide what to do. Should she punish Lena? Probably, but she’d rather get Lena’s side of the story first. And snacks? Is that standard procedure for when you’ve had to take your child out of school because they punched their classmate? She doesn’t think so.

This would be easier, she thinks, staring in the approximate direction of the carrot sticks, if he had someone else to help her come up with the game plan.

Only, her brain doesn’t immediately conjure an image of Bucky, like it used to. Instead, she’s imagining working through this with Maria, the two of them leaning against the kitchen counter, bemoaning their kids’ habit of causing trouble.

Nat slams the fridge closed. No snacks, then. 

She still takes her time climbing the stairs and walking the length of the hall to Lena’s door, because she still doesn’t know exactly how she’s going to handle all this.

Before Nat can open the door, Lena does it for her, looking very small as she tucks her stuffed moose more securely under her arm. There are still tear tracks on her face, and Nat’s heart hurts. 

“I’m sorry, Mama.” Lena tucks her chin against her chest and goes back into her room, climbing up onto the bed. She settles back into the little nest of pillows there and, when she sees that Nat is still standing outside, pats the bed next to her.

Nat goes, putting herself on the edge of the bed, facing her daughter. She asks, “Can you tell me what happened?”

Lena’s chin trembles briefly. She stays quiet for a long moment, obviously struggling not to cry again. Nat gives her all the time she needs. Finally:

“We didn’t  _ mean _ to!” Lena wails, losing the battle to keep it together. Tears start sliding down her face as she pushes herself further back into the pillows. 

Didn’t mean to  _ what _ ?

“What do you mean, sweetpea?”

“Uncle Clint let me watch a movie with Lila where the girls trick their parents into getting back together!” Lena holds onto Moose even tighter. Nat’s still confused—where does Clint come into this? “And I know Daddy and Sammy are happy together, so I couldn’t do  _ that _ , but I know how much you like Felix’s mom! And Felix told me Miss Maria likes you  _ too _ !”

Nat’s starting to get an idea of where this is going. She can feel a headache building behind her eyes.

“But we aren’t twins, so we couldn’t switch places—” she hiccups— “so Felix thought we should get you to spend as much time together as possible, but it–it wasn’t  _ working _ !”

Oh, Nat thinks to herself. 

She gathers Lena up in her arms and moves to be better situated on the bed. Lena curls up in her lap and hiccups miserably. 

Nat pets her hair until Lena has mostly calmed down again, and then she says, “So you and Felix though that Miss Maria and I should go on dates? Why didn’t you just tell me that, Lenochka?”

“Because that’s not how they did it in the movie,” Lena mumbles.

Clint is going to have a field day with this.

Nat sighs. “So you punched Felix because nothing else got our attention?”

“Yeah.” Lena pauses. “I was careful not to hurt him too bad. He’s my friend.”

Jesus. Nat’s going to have to beat the intelligence agencies off with a stick, at least until Lena graduates college. She’s definitely her parents’ daughter, that’s for sure. 

“Okay.” Nat leans down and places a kiss on Lena’s forehead. “I appreciate that you and Felix were trying to help us, but you still hit him at school. That means you have to go talk to Mr. Maximoff a few times, and you can’t have any friends over for a few weeks. Does that sound fair?”

Lena sniffles a bit, but nods. Nat hugs her closer. They grow up too fast.

* * *

Nat stares at her phone. It’s after Lena’s bedtime, lunch has already been packed for tomorrow, and there’s nothing left to clean in the house. She’s checked.

Right. Time to woman up.

She unlocks the phone and presses the ‘call’ button. It rings twice before cutting out part way through the third ring. 

“Nat?” Maria says.

“Hey,” Nat replies. Something dawns on her. “I think that’s the first time you haven’t called me by my first name.”

Maria laughs under her breath, sounding self conscious. “I guess I didn’t want to, I don’t know, overstep.”

“So did Felix–?”

“Yeah.” A moment of quiet, when all Nat can hear is the sound of Maria’s steady breathing. “Were the kids right?”

“Yeah,” Nat echoes. 

“Oh.”

Silence.

“Would you–”

“Do you–”

They both stop, laughing. Nat waits a second and then starts again. “Do you want to go on a date, Maria?”

“I’d love to.”

Nat smiles into the phone.

* * *

When she gets to the school the next day, Lena isn’t waiting for her in the pickup line. Nat definitely doesn’t panic. Nope.

Instead she very calmly makes her way up and down the line again and, when she still doesn’t see Lena, goes inside to the front office.

There’s no one at the front desk, because of course there isn’t.

She knows parents aren’t supposed to wander around the school unaccompanied, but a sick feeling is starting to creep up the back of her throat, and the third grade classrooms aren’t that far away. She’ll just… pop her head in, and see if Lena got distracted talking to Wanda. 

But the classroom is empty and the lights are off, so Nat walks  _ very quickly _ (but definitely doesn’t run) to the gym, where Clint is still putting away the little half-dome cones that seem to be a staple in elementary schools across the space-time continuum. Lena isn’t in here either. Clint looks up and sees her coming.

“Nat, you know you’re not supposed to be–” then he seems to really notice her expression, because he straightens up, dead serious. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t find Lena.” She swallows, but it doesn’t get rid of the sour taste in her mouth. “She wasn’t in line, and she’s not here, or in her classroom. I don’t know where she would  _ go. _ ”

She doesn’t want to say what she’s thinking. No one would’ve taken her daughter. Why would they take the daughter of a stay at home mom?

Because they’ve discovered she’s the Black Widow, her brain supplies. Or, even worse, because they uncovered her past with the C.I.A. Because they realized Bucky is still alive, and his daughter is the best way to get at him. Because, because—

There’s a million reasons why, and each one is worse than the last. 

Clint grabs her by the shoulders, his grip tight enough to hurt, just the tiniest bit. 

“I’m sure everything’s alright, Tasha,” he tells her. “Would she have gone home with a friend?”

“Not without calling me. She knows my number.” Nat presses the heel of her palm against her forehead, uses it to rub her eye. She tries to think; she’s been in much worse situations before, she can handle pressure. 

But none of those situations involved her daughter. She would die before letting anything happen to Lena. 

“C’mon, Tasha,” Clint says. “Does anyone live within walking distance of the school?”

Her eyes snap open.

“Maria does.” She squints, remembering. “Definitely, she told me once. But she doesn’t let Felix walk home alone, he’s still too young.”

“Do you have her address?” When Nat shakes her head he tells her, “Call Maria.”

She does. 

“He’s supposed to stay after school today,” Maria says, the same edge of panic in her voice. Someone on her end of the line says something and Maria must pull the speaker away from her mouth, because her voice is muffled when she says, “I don’t want to hear another word out of you until the police get here.”

...Nat must have misheard that. 

Maria moves the phone closer again. “I’ll text you my address and meet you there. Hopefully they’re both there.”

They hang up and the text comes through almost immediately. Nat doesn’t wait to update Clint, she just runs, phone clenched in one hand. She knows the street Maria lives on;  it’ll be just as fast to run straight there as it will be to get in the car, turn it on, back out of her spot, and deal with the traffic of all the other parents who are leaving right now too.

Clint shouts something behind her, but Nat doesn’t stop.

She’s shaking and sweaty when she gets to the mailbox marked 2105, more from the anxiety than the exertion. Nat pushes hair that’s escaped from her ponytail off her forehead. 

The door is unlocked.

“Lena?” she calls. She steps over the threshold and into the house. It’s open and airy, much more modern than her own home. She can see up the stairs, into the kitchen and living room, but the kids are nowhere in sight. “Sweetpea, are you here? Felix?”

Silence.

Then:

Footsteps thunder above her head. She holds her breath as they get louder, before Lena and Felix appear at the top of the stairs.

“Mama!” Lena says. Her expression says she knows she did something wrong, but she’s also smiling, happy and carefree and safe.

Nat drops to her knees. Lena rushes down the stairs and straight into Nat’s open arms. Nat crushes her to her chest, trying not to shudder as she swallows down all the negative emotions. She turns her face into Lena’s hair, squeezing her eyes shut. She’s not going to cry. She will  _ not. _

“Mama, are you okay?” Lena asks.

Nat pulls back and holds her daughter at arm’s length. Now that she’s not panicking, she cannot  _ believe _ her. 

“Yelena Yakovlevna Romanova,” she says, voice icy. Lena freezes. “Just  _ what _ were you  _ thinking _ ?”

“Uh–” Lena’s eyes shift to the doorway behind Nat.

“Felix,” Maria breathes. “You’re okay.”

She blows past Nat, still on her knees by the stairs, and scoops up her son. His legs dangle awkwardly as Maria hugs him. “You were supposed to stay at the school with Miss Michelle, remember?”

“I know, Mommy, I’m sorry,” Felix says. His eyes dart toward Nat, who’s staring at the both of them, mouth slack. “Lena said she couldn’t have friends over, and I thought it would be okay if she… came over…”

Nat isn’t really paying attention. Instead, she’s focused on Maria’s shapeless cargo pants, the sleek way her hair is pulled back, and, most importantly, the simple navy mask that’s been pushed up onto the top of her head. 

“Oh my god,” she says, laughing in disbelief. “We’re so stupid.  _ You’re _ the Commander?”

Maria’s eyes widen and she goes from staring at Felix to staring at Nat. 

“No.” She shakes her head. “There’s  _ no _ way.”

Lena pipes up, “Wait, Miss Maria doesn’t know you’re the Black Widow?”

Nat swings her gaze back to her daughter, bewildered. 

“How do  _ you _ know?” she asks.

“Come on, Mama, it’s  _ so  _ obvious,” Lena says, in the way all nine-year-olds seem to have perfected.

Maria and Nat make eye contact again. Apparently, they’re the only people in the entire goddamn town that didn’t realize who the other was, if the kids are to be believed.

Nat starts to laugh despite herself. The whole thing is just so ridiculous that she can’t help it. A heartbeat later, Maria joins in, and they laugh until they’re crying, the kids don’t seem to know what to do.

This is going to make a great story some day, probably at someone wedding, but for now, Nat just laughs away the hysteria until she can breathe properly again.

* * *

“Ready?” Nat asks, waiting by the door. 

Maria finishes buckling the straps on her heel. She’s going to tower over Nat, but Nat definitely doesn’t mind. She straightens, adjusts the collar of her jacket, and says, “Yep.”

Nat puts her hand on the doorknob, but doesn’t open the door quite yet. “Are we forgetting anything?”

“No, Nat.”

“Keys? Good. I have my phone. The kids are with Clint and Laura.” She tilts her head to one side. “Laura has strict instructions to not let them watch any movies that will give them  _ ideas. _ ”

Maria laughs softly and steps closer, bending down to kiss Nat on the cheek.

Nat stops talking.

“Everything’s good,” Maria says. “Now let’s go to dinner.”

Well. There’s no arguing with that. Nat opens the door and follows Maria out to the car, appreciating the sight of Maria’s ass in her dress.

It’s only a first date, but Nat has a very good feeling about it all anyway.

And after, if she’s lucky, maybe they’ll put on something more comfortable… and fight misdemeanors together.

(She’s kidding.

Mostly.

She isn’t really picky.)

**Author's Note:**

> Some facts that didn't make it into the fic: Bucky's husband is definitely Sam; they annoy each other half to death and Lena spends her summers with them (she thinks their bickering is the funniest thing ever). Lena's middle name is definitely actually like, a family name on Bucky's side, probably, but when Nat's annoyed/upset she breaks out the full Russian name and just goes, _"Yelena Yakovlevna Romanova."_ Lena grows up fearing that tone of voice. Nat also makes one up for Felix after she and Maria have been together for long enough.
> 
> The title is a quote from the Parent Trap; I didn't include it up top because it's a bit of a spoiler. Thanks for reading, I really hope you enjoyed it! Comments and kudos are always appreciated but never required.
> 
> Read on,  
> Skats


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